C is for Claudia
by Jelsemium
Summary: Another story from my 2007 Summer Alphabet Collection. Claudia Gomez is now an ME for the Feds. It's a good job, but sometimes it stinks.


C is for Claudia

Dedicated to Ms. Graham Cracker, because she asked if I had more Claudia stories.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

Spoilers: Little, teeny spoilers for "Undercurrents"

Unlike the Medical Examiner on the television show, CSI: Miami, Claudia Gomez did not speak to the deceased in her care.

However, she could understand why her fictional counterpart had fallen into the habit of talking to people who could not hear her. Trying to put the pieces back together could be very frustrating. (Especially when the 'putting the pieces together' was literal.) It was natural to want to demand answers of somebody.

There weren't many humans in the morgue to demand answers from, usually your assistant, who had fewer answers than you, or you could try talking to one of your visitors.

At least the deceased couldn't blow you off.

Not that the visitors were trying to be rude. Mostly people who came to the morgue were in a hurry. They came in, they asked questions, and they left as quickly as possible.

Claudia tried not to take it personally.

She knew that, in addition to society's aversion to being in the same place as dead people, there was one dominant factor that kept the investigators, the mortuary attendants and even the loved ones of the deceased from lingering in her domain.

It was the smell.

Dead humans had a smell like nothing else on Earth, not even other dead mammals. At the end of the day, Claudia walked out to her car secure in the knowledge that no mugger in the world would come near her.

Unfortunately, she'd also discovered that few men cared to approach her for any reason just after work.

In order to remove that odor, Claudia had her condominium's bathroom specially renovated. She'd sacrificed half of one guest room to make it. The sink, the toilet and the cabinets were normal.

However, the tub was more of a hot tub, with power massage jets. Next to the tub, pulsating sprayers lined the shower's marble walls so she could blast herself from every angle.

At the end of a particularly onerous shift, Claudia was ready to climb into that shower and drain the LA basin of all water reserves.

Before she could make her escape, another investigator knocked on the door.

She sighed and pushed the door open. She gazed up at the tall, dark and handsome man standing there and wondered how he'd look in her shower stall. "We're open all day, Agent… ?"

"Sinclair," he said. "David Sinclair. I'm here for the results on the Will Burns autopsy."

How very Bondsian, Claudia mused. "Claudia Gomez," she replied. Somehow, she managed to refrain from licking her lips. "I've got the file right over here," she said. "No need to be shy, nobody here bites." _Except me, she added to herself. My, you look yummy._

"I'm not shy," Sinclair said. "I was just afraid I might contaminate the place, bad as I smell."

Claudia raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I've been dumpster diving all day," Sinclair said apologetically. "I smell so bad, that my teammates were threatening to sic Haz Mat on me." He made a wry face.

Claudia firmly kept her tongue in her mouth.

"I decided not to argue, because I'm hoping to regain my sense of smell sometime this year," Sinclair went on. "If I sit in my desk chair, it'll be unusable and I'll probably wind up buying a new one."

Claudia seriously considered inviting him over to her place to decontaminate. She sighed inwardly and decided that she'd better wait for the second case before making her move.

Outwardly, she just smiled and handed over the file in question. "Agent Sinclair, the reason you had to _explain_ that you've been dumpster diving is because my olfactory senses are so deadened by my 'guests' I can't smell anything."

She gestured around the interior of the morgue as she spoke.

David grinned. "I guess this place would smell pretty rank, if I could smell anything," he said.

"There's nothing pretty about this place," Claudia said.

"Yes, there is," Sinclair demurred. "You."

Claudia felt a smile coming on. "Why, Agent Sinclair, are you _flirting_ with me?"

"Dr. Gomez, if you have to _ask_, then obviously my technique is off. Why don't you have dinner with me so I can brush up?"

Claudia beamed. "I'd be delighted to accompany you, Agent Sinclair. I just need to wash up."


End file.
